Downward Slide
by Alternateapocalypse
Summary: Apocalypse at home? Fine. I have contingency plans, even if I never thought I'd need them. But add in a forced change in country residency, without a single person that I actually know in said country? Well, great. Chapter specific warnings. SI, OC's.


**Walking Dead Fanfiction**

**Downward Slide**

**Chapter 1- When It's Going Under…**

**Warning: SI, blood, gore, detailed description of attacks and overall MA15+/ NC-17 -ness.**

**-Atalia-**

_~I'm going under! Blurring and stirring the truth and~_

I was listening to my headphones, the music on full ball while on the longest plane ride of my life so far when it happened.

I want to say that I was excused from not noticing it straight away.

What made me noticed was something warm splashing across the back of my head and the subsequent screams.

So no, I was not really excused.

I was up and out of my seat as quick as I could, on high alert.

The middle aged guy in the window seat behind me, who had looked 'like death' when he got on, sweating and feverish with his crumpled, stained navy suit and short blond hair plastered to his forehead had chomped on the elderly lady sitting next to him.

She had been the one to scream.

And as he bit down harder and raised his head, that scream turned into a bloody gurgle, the flesh of her throat in the man's mouth, her blood pouring down her neck, into the old fashioned pearl necklace and staining her white blouse and tan cardigan as well as her brown slacks.

The man moved slowly, which I had assumed was to take the flesh out of his mouth, but he did the opposite, and crammed it all into his mouth and started to chew on it.

I froze, like a stupid damsel in distress in some B-grade horror flick who just didn't get the idea to _run_.

This type of stuff didn't happen in real life.

It wasn't _possible_!

I backed away, refusing to scream.

Unfortunately, the person who was sat next to me had no qualms about doing that, which set panic alight in the plane.

The man looked up, and before I was swept away with the other passengers away, I saw the dead, unfeeling face.

Now he looked truly like death.

There was a woman pressing heavily on my back trying to push through, and as the man in front gave way, I fell face first on the floor, my nose hitting a small step with a metal edge.

The woman who was pushing at me _stepped_ on my _ribs_, breaking a couple, as she fled, she along with five or six others.

I gasped through the blood trickling down my throat, looking up to the blocked and trapped like rats people before rolling on my back and sitting up immediately to prevent my bleeding nose from drowning me. I stood, grasping at the nearest seat while clutching my dark green hoodie, which was getting the blood from my nose on it.

A horrible, hoarse scream ripped me from my occupation with my own injuries to a dark haired little boy who had been trapped by the walking dead man.

The man had clamped his jaws around the back of the boy's thigh, and ripped the jeans he was wearing and a large chunk of the boy's leg.

I glanced around looking for a weapon, any weapon.

The man _wasn't_ going to stop. Everyone was going to die at this rate.

I didn't think too much when I saw the broken leg half attached to the busing trolley.

I dashed over, twisted the metal apart with a terrible grating noise, gaining the dead thing's attention. I yanked quickly, and spun around quickly, the improvised weapon in front of me.

He was a gurgling, shuffling mess of flesh drenched in blood from two different people, the navy suit full of dark blemishes, looking almost black the white shirt a vivid scarlet.

The kid he had attacked was still screaming and crying, trying to move when he was bleeding out really fast.

A couple of women were crying, pulling back anyone who looked like they might actually _help_.

_Thanks, bitches!_ I thought, mental voice heavy with vitriol.

The _thing_ lifted its' arms wide and I step forward, under an arm to get behind twisted and whacked it as hard as I could in the head.

It stumbled and fell into one of the seat, before getting up again. If that didn't prove it wasn't human, then I don't know what will.

I swung once more, a second, a third and for the fourth, final time.

The man no longer moved.

My 'weapon' was coated and _dripping_ in blood, and each swing splattered me with it.

Hell, I could _feel_ the blood that had hit the back of my head that landed in my hair drying into a matted clump, the normally wild tangles of red curls tightening and growing heavier.

I walked to the back of the seating, ignoring the people staring at me I pulled up my headphones, restarted the play function and flopped back into the corner seat. Pulling up my legs, I let me head hit my knees and tried my best not to cry.

I failed, but I either was silent or no one wanted to get anywhere near me because I cried alone, _blood splattered_, still holding the makeshift weapon and no one came anywhere close to me until we landed in Atlanta.

I must have slept at some point, or maybe I spaced out. I'm not quite sure, but I awoke to a copper yelling at me to drop the weapon. Dazed, I did as he asked. There was only myself and three others, all cops in the plane, the rest having obviously left. I placed the weapon on the seat, raising my hands that the woman grabbed, cuffing them together.

She gestured for me to move out slowly, which I did, wondering what the hell was going to happen. We got the majority of the way out of the plane, before a cop that was behind me gave out a half-yelp falling over and subsequently pushing me away and knocking the gun out of his hand.

I snatched up the weapon as the other two coppers got a good eyeful of the newly risen dead boy, who had snuck his hand around the ankle, and was about to chomp across the Achilles' heel of the downed cop.

The cops shot at the arms of the kid only after he had ripped the tendons out, one of the cops, a female with a tightly done bun, was surprised from the seats, as the elderly woman who had been the first bitten stood behind her.

"Look out! I cried, only I was too late, and the dead lady grabbed each shoulder, hauled the woman back with the strength of someone twice her size and tore out her neck with her teeth, the woman crying out in pain.

The last remaining cop looked quickly at me, and yelled at me to get out of there.

I hesitated, picking up the lost pistol. I leveled it towards the old lady who had advanced to the last cop.

I shot, but I missed the head, hitting the throat. Which didn't affect the woman at all. She only turned towards me, shuffling and moaning, and I shook with adrenaline.

The remaining cop yelled in pain, and a shot rang out.

**A/N: I am testing the waters of this particular fandom. If I get a positive response, I will continue this story. If not, consider it a one shot.**


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